“I understand the proceeding has been suspended.” The Admiral drew a snuffbox from his coat and procured a pinch of fine grey powder. “Bloody business— meaning no disrespect, of course, Miss Austen.” He sneezed resoundingly.

“None taken, sir, I assure you. Bloody is only too apt a term in the present case.”

The Admiral looked slightly started at my freedom; Catherine Bertie, it must be supposed, should never have uttered an indelicacy. She should sooner have fainted at the blow of an expletive.

“It looks very black for Seagrave,” the Admiral went on. “His sole accuser throttled on the very day of his trial! I wonder old Hastings did not string him up directly. Still, we must afford the man an opportunity to explain himself. With the Southampton magistrate putting in his oar, however, we may expect a delay. There will be all the dispute of jurisdiction and authority, and Seagrave shall go free on the strength of it, I'll be bound.”

I glanced at Frank, whose looks had taken a lowering turn. “Would you suggest, sir, that…”

“That Lucky Tom did for the scrub himself? Shouldn't wonder at it.” The Admiral let out a bark of laughter. “After all, the Captain ran a Frenchman through with his own dirk, and after the colours came down, too. One cannot vouch for Seagrave's temper. — Nor, I understand, for his whereabouts last evening.” Bertie raised one hoary eyebrow significantly.

“I beg your pardon?” I managed.

“The Captain will not say where he was last night,” the Admiral repeated, “nor allow his wife to be questioned. Hastings has just told me of it. Asked Seagrave himself. Seagrave replied that as the court-martial was suspended, he considered himself above the necessity of an answer. Damnable cheek! Should be resigned the service.”

The alteration in Frank's countenance was suddenly dreadful. Some thought of the express despatched on Tuesday — of Seagrave's taking the news to heart — of Frank having put, as he phrased it, a spur to murder — all were evident in his looks.

“I understood that Captain Seagrave meant to fix quietly at home until this business was concluded,” he said stiffly.

Admiral Bertie shook his head. “I confess I cannot be sanguine as to his chances, Frank, when the court-martial is resumed. As it certainly must be. We shall have you in the Stella yet.”

My brother was on the verge, I am sure, of refuting such an ill-timed hope — but I glimpsed Thomas Seagrave over Frank's shoulder and clutched at the sleeve of his coat, forestalling any answer he might have made.

The Captain had come to a halt some ten paces from our little party, and eyed us with a mixture of anger and mortification. He was resplendent in full dress uniform; his white pantaloons shone with brushing, and the gold at his shoulders gleamed. That he had overlistened some part of the conversation, I am convinced; and that he misapprehended the tenor of it was obvious.

“Ah, Tom,” Frank said, his visage suddenly scarlet “There you are. You are acquainted with Admiral Bertie, I believe?”

Seagrave inclined his head; the Admiral barely acknowledged the courtesy, and an awkward silence fell.

“I must leave you here, Austen,” Admiral Bertie said abruptly. “Hastings is most pressing in his desire to take refreshment, and I cannot keep him waiting. My compliments to your wife. Good day, Miss Austen.”

“Admiral.”

He strode off without a backwards glance: the clearest example in my experience of a mind uncomplicated by subtlety. Such a one is distinctly suited to the pursuit of the Enemy — he will have the rules of engagement by heart, and follow them $o the letter. Life, in its attacks and repulsions, must seem a simple arrangement enough. All the infinite shadings of circumstance and will, decision and restraint, are not for him. It does not do to think overmuch on the point of batde; but woe betide the pure of heart on dry land.

I glanced at Seagrave. Here was just such another; and he was aground and awash in the present perplexity of his fortunes. Even this little exchange between my brother and a senior officer was rife with betrayal and deceit. There is a brutal innocence in your seafaring men: tho' accustomed to all the savagery of conflict from a tender age, they know little of social intercourse. Tom Seagrave was ill-equipped to take a sounding of the depths of such waters. I sincerely pitied him.

“May I offer my heartfelt congratulations on the suspension of your trial, Captain,” I attempted.

“You are too good, Miss Austen. Frank tells me you have been sitting some time with my wife. Pray, how did she take the news?”

I felt my cheeks flame red. There seemed an embargo on every answer. For lack of a better, I said, “She fell into a swoon. But we left her in good hope of recovery. Her maid attended her.”

“I see.” He drew his white gloves through hands made rough by constant exposure to the weather. “Louisa has not been well, for a twelvemonth at least, and I confess it wears at my heart. She abhors Portsmouth; and this wretched business has hardly contributed to her happiness. I thank you, Miss Austen, for your kindness to my wife.”

“It was a pleasure, I assure you.”

He appeared surprised, as well he might — there can be few that found aught in Louisa Seagrave to redeem the caprices of her temper.

“I wonder, Captain,” I added, “whether you have consulted a reputable physician? For Mrs. Seagrave does appear a trifle … thin.” I had chosen my words; uneasy in her mind, or most dependent upon laudanum, must be discarded as ill-advised. “Mr. Hill, the naval surgeon, remarked upon her… nerves. I am sure that he—”

“She will not bear a consultation,” Seagrave said abruptly, “though I have urged her repeatedly to it”

“You must bring her to Southampton one day. I am sure the airing would do her good.”

“Yes,” he replied, but his gaze fell to his gloves and he appeared less open than before. Perhaps he could not trust his Louisa amidst the delights of a watering place.

“Tom,” broke in my brother with some urgency, “the Admiral tells me you were questioned as to your movements last night.”

“I was.”

“Why did you not tell them that you were at home?”

The Captain smiled thinly. “I saw no reason to prevaricate. I was not at home. Though for all the good my activity did me, I should better have sat by the fire.”

Frank slapped his thigh in irritation. “You went in search of Chessyre. I should never have sent you the contents of that express! The shock must certainly prove too great—”

“Betrayal, particularly among friends, must always seize us unawares. A lifetime of experience cannot inure us to each new perfidy.”

Seagrave's accent was cold to the point of ice; but my brother appeared oblivious. Tom, you must own the truth before it is too late. If you killed Chessyre in an affair of honour—”

“I wish that I had. I did not. You may chuse to believe me or no, Austen — it is all one with me.”.

Again, Frank flushed. “I am happy to find you value the good opinion of your friends so highly!”

“The idea of friendship, it seems to me, has suffered an alteration. I once called Eustace Chessyre friend; but he might better have thrust my dirk into my back than Porthiault's chest — my end might have proved less lingering. I cannot forgive him for it”

“Good God, Tom, will you build your gallows in the very naval yard?” Frank hissed.

“And then there is Frank Austen,” Seagrave continued harshly, “whom I have also called friend. Frank Austen, whose desire for a fast frigate is everywhere known, whose ties to the Admiralty are so very good, whose efforts to clear me of dishonour must provide an occasion for the most officious and public spectacle of interference, and raise him in the esteem of everybody who has eyes to see — good, noble, avaricious Frank Austen, who should as soon steal a man's livelihood as shake his hand!”